


I just need a nap

by SennexTheAssasinKingOfLight



Category: Cursed (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst, Child Murder, Death, Heroism, Hurt No Comfort, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Made Myself Cry, Pain, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29667519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SennexTheAssasinKingOfLight/pseuds/SennexTheAssasinKingOfLight
Summary: Percival preforms an act of heroism. Unfortunately it is the only one he will ever perform.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 2
Collections: Netflix's Cursed - Monthly prompts picked by a cursed bot!





	I just need a nap

**Author's Note:**

> No one is crying. I don't know what you're talking about. 
> 
> Feel free to hate me, I hate me a little bit too.

He runs fast. Blood pounding in his ears and lungs barely keeping up. The others run too. He watches them duck into the trees, through the ravines. It's Dewdenn all over again. There had been no warning, no time. Gawain had stayed behind with the other warriors to guard the retreat. Ordered him to run. Paladins who have made it past The Fey guard are running behind him, after he and the others. Without hesitation he draws his knife and turns on the spot. The rough ridges of the antler forming the hilt, from the first buck he had hunted with his father, digging into his skin. He takes a deep breath and takes a stance he has watched Kaze and Gawain and the others take when practicing. He knows he should be obedient. That he should run into the woods with the others. He can’t. He can’t run while his people die around him. Not again.

A man in red races towards him and raises an axe. He ducks to the side and avoids the blow. Stabs his knife into the man's calf and he falls to the ground grasping at the wound, blood spurting between his fingers. Squirrel doesn’t hesitate to stab his blade into the man's neck. The warmth of blood on his hand surprises him as he jerks the blade out and stumbles backward and stares at the steam rising from his hand. He’s never killed before.

Bile rises in his throat and he doubles over, vomits, wipes his chin with the other hand. He whirls around in response to movement behind him, brandishing his knife he tries to stab another paladin, he loses his grip as he is pulled roughly back. His knife falls to the ground at his feet. He sucks in a breath and lurches his weight forward only to cry out as piercing metal bites into the flesh of his stomach.

The earth smells fresh as he struggles to inhale around the pain forcing air out his mouth. With difficulty he turns his head to the side, watches as red blurs with green the echo of screams distant in his ears. The noise dies around him and he sighs, the taste of blood familiar in his mouth, no longer a source of discomfort. The pain in his middle faded to a raw ache from the sharp burning stab it had been. He wonders if night has fallen, he feels far to cold for it to be midday. He keeps his eyes closed and tries to breath steadily, but his air comes in gasps and spasms.

“No. No! Squirrel NO!” Someone yells and he thinks that's his name, but he isn’t sure anymore. When he cracks his eyes open then midday sun blinds him, but the air on his skin feels cold. He blinks, and blinks again as warm hands touch his face and arms. He groans around the blood in his mouth, coating his teeth and tongue, as those same hands brush hair off his forehead and cradle him. The pain in his stomach is dull and aching and Pym looks like an angel as he tries to focus on her. The light of the sun haloing her silhouette. But he knows her touch, knows her voice. It fills him with warmth for a moment and he rests his head on her shoulder.

“Please Squirrel. Please. Not you too.” He tries to swallow and chokes, coughs into her chest. She holds him tighter. Something warm falls onto his cheeks, his lips. Absently his tongue darts out and he can taste salt. _Shes crying. Why is she crying?_ His arm is heavy as he reaches up a hand to brush tears from her cheek. He tries to smile but it takes too much energy, so he leans into her instead, tries to steal her warmth as he shivers. _Is she still holding me? My eyes are so heavy. I’m dying, why am I dying?_ He groans as white hot pain blossoms on his stomach.

“Keep pressure on it Pym. If blood comes through your fingers press down tighter.”

“Gawain. He can’t die. Please. He can’t”

“Percival, Percival stay awake. Keep your eyes open. There is help coming.”

He groans again, tries to keep his eyes open, tries to tell the Green Knight he’s fine, that he’ll be just fine if he takes a nap. But it gets lost in the thick fluid coating his tongue. He sighs, a wet choking sound, and closes his eyes against the shadows dancing in his vision.

Surely a nap would make the pain stop.

He just wants a nap.

Just to close his eyes.

Only for a moment.

Just to sle—


End file.
